I Bring Life
by ScopertoRoses
Summary: So Jack wasn't the only one Rose brought back that day on Satellite 5. got the insperation from anouther fanfiction I read months ago, name of which long forgotten. Not sure about whats going to happen... I'm just going with the flow here First ever submit but by far not my first fanfic...
1. Prologue

Yeah, first ever post... This ones for you 21stCenturyGirl... even though you read it earlier...

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Earth in the year 100200 was not much better than 100 years previously. After his glimpse of the suffocating world from the window aboard Satellite 5 the Doctor had felt drawn to the era, not that there was anything he could do: alien threats he could deal with, but human nature was something he definitely wasn't going to tackle. It was more, he reasoned, that the first time he had visited and 'sorted things out' everything had only grown a lot worse by his next visit a century later. So you can imagine his surprise, and slight hint of amusement at his ex-companions tendency to get into trouble, when he heard of the immortal man the government had hostage. After a quick investigation be determined it was definitely Jack, no other being he knew of had those same abilities. He sighed, this wouldn't be the first time the old time agent had got himself kidnapped, and it definitely wasn't the first the Doctor had been left to go rescue him. He was being held under maximum security in the base of an organisation which had once been known as UNIT. Despite over a hundred years of dissecting, vivisecting and doing god knows what else to the man the scientists were apparently no closer to discovering the secret behind his everlasting life, so they'd resorted to using him as a walking organ machine: just ripping him open and taking organs for transplant when they needed them. There was no doubt he was a miracle and great medical asset to the human race, but eternal life was not something they were ever meant to possess; it was bad enough that one man had it. Of course it was little trouble getting in- psychic paper really was a god send in situations like this- and soon 'Doctor Smith was being show through the reinforced corridors of the bases prison facility to the cell of the prisoner. "Subject 16 is still unconscious from surgery" the general who had been the Doctors guide explained, the time lord couldn't help a grimace at the wording: what they were doing here was in no way surgery- surgery made people better, this was just the mindless butchering of an unfortunate man. "Just call a guard to sedate him when he wakes. He can be quite vicious" that raised a small smile; of course Jack would still be his usual self, even chained up in here. The door was held open for him and the Doctor stepped in; hesitant as to what state his friend would be in, dreading what sort of tortures he'd been subjected too. The room was small, simple, grey concrete from floor to ceiling with nothing but a metal bed against the far wall in which a hunched form now rested. As the Doctor stepped closer he could see words, etched in blood, spread all across the wall behind the bed: as far as the prisoner handcuffed there could reach. It was the same phrase: repeated over and over again 'Stay with me' tentatively reaching out the Doctor rolled the body over taking a step back in confusion. That wasn't Jack: this was the boy from Torchwood Cardiff, he recognised him from that video call during the Dalek attack back in 2008... This was Ianto Jones.

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So hey... Um... Thanks for reading, hope you liked it... comments welcome... say anything you want... please... I'm just going to leave now... this is a little awkward


	2. Rescue

Since I took so long to edit I had two bits ready... short bits mind, but the chapters look to be getting longer each time...

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There were only a few occasions Ianto was lucky enough to wake in his room, still shackled, but at least free from the constant tearing at his chest. As with every time he was fully healed, not even a scar showed in his skin under the itching hospital gown; he was both marvelled and disgusted by the technology these people possessed- to put he through all that and leave no mark on his body. He wondered once again what they wanted from him: he remembered Martha's mutated white blood cells, but he'd never travelled in time and as far as Owen had even found working on the rift caused no permanent damage. Which begged the question of why they were doing this, and why it was taking them so long? Of course he had no true idea of passing time; just his own instinct which- after a few years of working underground in the Hub- were rather good. But only over short periods of time, and his frequent black outs didn't help, but still he kept track: on the wall, just hidden by the side of the bed was a tally, he scratched another line with the edge of his handcuffs every time he thought a day had passed. His count currently stood at almost one year and two months. He decided this meant it was only a matter of time before Jack found him, this was his mantra: keeping him sane, giving him a reason to keep counting the days. In his more stressed moments he'd taken to calming himself down with the only thing that worked: his memories of Jack. He couldn't imagine the man here now; his brain was too logical for that, but his photographic memory allowed him to recall everything that had ever happened to him in perfect clarity: like a film playing in his mind. The most vivid, and the one he went to the most, was the last time he'd seen Jack. Lying on the floor of Thames House, slowly feeling the virus spread through his body. As he'd succumbed to the poison, eyes slipping closed while Jack held him, he'd request not to be forgotten even though he knew he would be: or even worse he'd become another or the many jokes Jack always made. He remembered feeling Jacks tears as they fell against his cheek, and those final words: 'Stay with me, Ianto'. That was the last time he'd seen the face of the man he loved and seeing the pain in his eyes over and over again hurt too much to bear at times. He'd often black out and awake to find the wall above him yet again smeared with blood: Jacks last words to him filling the space, over and over again. He screamed. He usually did, there was no pain here, but he could still remember it, and since he was always unable to scream during the operation it always seemed his brain wanted to make up for lost time. He could still see the gaping wound, the sharp clink of the metal instruments all around him as the surgeons gathered like vultures, ready to tear chunk after chuck from his body. Usually the guards soon put a stop to his screaming with a fresh injection, leaving him paralysed, but not today, today a cooling hand was placed against his forehead, the sudden action made Ianto flinch: had he been capable of more movement he'd have lashed out, but the handcuffs held him back and the longer the hand rested against his feverish head the calmer he felt, he still knew he should fight back but his will slowly drained, as if his emotions were no longer connected to his thoughts. He twisted his head to see a figure standing over him, he knew he should pull away, do anything to get the person away: anyone who came close only wanted to hurt him. But something about this man seemed familiar, even in the dim light. He could see the man was trying to say something, unheard over the screams that were still filling the room. He stopped and the man's voice snapped into hearing

"Ianto! Shhhh, everything's going to be okay now, I'm going to get you out of here... Understand?" The Doctor searched the man's eyes, seeing only fear and pain there "Do you remember me? I'm the Doctor" he saw something click in the man's mind, a memory perhaps, he had to suppress the huge sigh of relief he wanted to admit; the man was fine, or as fine as one who'd been tortured near endlessly for over 100 years could be.

"Jack's Doctor?" the man rasped, voice sore from all the screaming and words ill formed from lack of use.

"Yes. I'm going to take you somewhere safe, alright?" he could hardly believe this: Ianto seemed to have gained the same ability as Jack, but what was he doing here? A prisoner thousands of years out of time with no sign of Jack, he did not know. He paused for a moment by the man's bed side; he was going to have to leave him again: to fetch the TARDIS, the room was just about big enough and he had the screwdriver handy to free him from his shackles. "but I have to go get something first" he turned to leave but Ianto's hand shot out, chain clanking as it reached its full stretch, just long enough for the near delirious man to grab hold of his cost.

"Don't leave" he gasped as if his heart rate had just trebled "Stay with me" the Welshman seemed absolutely terrified and if chilled the Doctor to hear him echoing the words written on the wall, but he had to leave. He gently pulled himself free, quickly leaving the room, trying not to look back as the screaming started again, this time two guards closing in on the small room and by the time the Doctor reached the end of the corridor everything was silent once more.

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I'll try and update maybe once a week, depending on the following... which looks to be just one person, who reads it all as I write it anyway... Thinking of putting a few of my other stories up here... Maybe...


	3. Broken Memories

Took a little longer than it should have since my internet is down, but here it is. Also yes, it is 10th Doctor, anyone else would be a travesty, and as for Jack, that will become clear in the next chapter, but I'll just say I have my own little theory about the face of Boe.

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I'm going mad- Ianto thought, now trapped in a paralyzed state by the drug- I'm hallucinating. Why would the Doctor be here? Surely if he knew of this place then so did Jack and Jack would have saved him by now: he wouldn't have just turned around and left. No, he was losing it, letting his delusions get the better of him. He found it amusing how he couldn't even think up a decent rescue scenario, god knows he'd had the time too.

The guards had only just left the room when a chilling wind tore through the room, an impossibility since there were no windows, the violent blasts of air stinging his eyes. 'You're dreaming' he reassured himself as a blue police box materialized on front of him. It was just how Jack had described it, down to every last detail.

'I suppose my imagination deserves some credit' Ianto thought bitterly as the door creaked open and the Doctor stepped out, running the short distance to his side and firing a short zap of the sonic screwdriver at each of the four shackles holding him down, the feeling of the chains loosening and slipping, their weight finally removed from his wrists, felt so real Ianto felt tears prick his eyes: he'd never be free.

The Doctor waved a hand in front of the man's face, noting the slight pupil reaction: he was awake- just heavily drugged. Lifting the man up was a bit of a struggle, despite his boarder line anorexic state, the Doctor wasn't built for carrying much and barley managed to drag him inside the TARDIS before a shout from outside the door told him it was time to move.

The guards were throwing themselves at the door which- to his luck opened inwards, and was therefore blocked by the back of the TARDIS. Slamming the door behind him and managing to pull Ianto into a safer position, he ran ahead to the console, getting into orbit before the guards found another way in to the room.

Standing a little way off the Doctor regarded the prone immortal: this was all very puzzling. Although he hadn't managed to catch up with Jack properly in many years he heard of a great loss suffered to both Torchwood and the man's heart, thinking back he suspected it had been this man who had died: or not as it may seem.

While the man's immortality was yet to be proven he definitely wasn't ageing, after 100 years in that place the files had recorded only little change in his body. And the amount of sedatives they pumped into him would have been enough to kill a T-Rex, but that in itself wasn't conclusive proof, it could have been the rift or something that had come through it that was causing this odd ability; besides there were only a handful of TARDIS' left and the possibility that two would have their votex's absorbed and used in this way (especially since 'bringing people back from the dead permanently'' definitely wasn't in the manual) was even more slim than the chance of it happening once in the first place. But if there was one thing the Doctor had learnt never to underestimate during his travels it was slim chances.

When Ianto finally awoke he felt like he'd gone ten rounds with a Weevil, every inch of his body was either numb or burning with pain, the contrast making him even more uncomfortable. With excruciating effort he managed to lift his head, slowly pulling his legs round so he was now sitting up on the seats he'd been lying across. Head still pounding, he was glad for the low lighting, though he couldn't make out much in the room, eyes refusing to focus, he got the sense of being underwater: the eerie blue light splintering around towering structures resembling coral, the feeling enhance by the pressure in his head and lethargic movements.

It was clear now he hadn't been hallucinating: he'd been moved from his room by a tall man, he remembered the guards shouting, pounding on the door. But where was this man now? He tried to stand, managing to pull himself up; feeling like he hadn't walked in years. His eyes were beginning to respond now, a blurry dash board coming into focus in front of him. Littered with flashing light it looked like something out of a sci-fi film: all futuristic buttons, switches and dials, each looking as conspicuous as the next.

Looking up at the strange column which seemed to run straight from floor to ceiling and further, he reached out to touch the cold glass, but jumped back when the door opened and the strange man entered.

He recognized him now from what he'd thought was a hallucination: this was indeed Jack's Doctor.

"Good to see you up" he smiled, throwing his coat over the nearest coral-structure. "You feeling better?"

"Yes... Thank you" there were a thousand questions he wanted to pose to the time lord, but wasn't sure where he stood with the stranger.

"Do you know where you are?" the Doctor asked after he realized the younger man wasn't going to engage a conversation.

"This is the TARDIS..." he began, hesitantly, glancing around the cavernous room.

"Can you remember how you got to that place?" he hoped he wasn't pushing him too far, it was clear the man was weak.

"We were in London," he began, brow furrowing as if something about the memory physically hurt him to think about "The 456, they wanted children... We went to persuade them to leave" he shook his head as if to clear it of something "There was a virus, in the air... Everyone was dying. I breathed it in" he trailed off, unsure of what had happened next. He could remember everything that had happened that day in perfect detail, but after he'd lost consciousness it was like his memories stopped and the latest thing he could remember was the Doctor lifting him from the bed in his prison. "Where were they keeping me? Who were they?" he asked, trying to fill in the gap in his memory was causing the pain in his head to increase and he'd rather not push it too hard, so he hoped the Doctor knew a little more than he did.

"That was UNIT" the Doctor explained, it was becoming increasingly obvious the man wasn't aware of his immortality, to whatever degree it existed, or how long he'd been detained for.

"Why would UNIT hold me? Surely Martha would have stopped them?" he seemed more confused by this than his memory lapse- little of this made sense to him but that was just ludicrous: he knew UNIT were far from being angels, but kidnapping people? That was a whole new league of illegality.

"Ianto... This is going to be hard for you to hear" the Doctor began, unsure of how to explain everything: even for a member of Torchwood some things were a little too far up the weird scale. "You died... During the 456 attack on Thames house you were killed by the poison and taken for cryogenic storage at the UNIT base" while the boy had been unconscious the Doctor had stepped outside to phone Martha: filling in on the events surrounding Ianto Jones' demise, she'd even checked on his body for him,; still frozen in the vaults and definitely dead.

"But in 100100, while clearing out an old cellar the future UNIT found your body, still frozen, but alive." he paused for a moment to allow this to sink in; this was why he hated having to explain things, it always made him feel like the bad guy; causing such despair to cross Ianto's face which turned to pain as he realized everyone he knew had thought him dead, and now were dead themselves.

It was almost too much for the Doctor, but there was nothing he could do about it: this was one of those parts of history that had to happen the way it did, Ianto Jones could never be allowed to see his family again.

"I can't go back, can I?" Ianto could tell how hard the Doctor was finding this, but he needed to know.

"No. I'm sorry... You can never return to the 21st century" there was a time of absolute defiance in his voice; Ianto wondered how he could possibly know so surely what could and could not happen. He understood that he could never meet himself, but there'd be no chance of that: considering he was dead and everything, and Jack was always dodging himself, he could remember that time when he'd put the Hub on lock-down, refusing to even let anyone out when an explosion rocked the bay above them because a past version of himself was running around Cardiff with the Doctor, and hell: there'd even been a frozen him within yards of the other for years- and all it would have taken was a slight curiosity at the unmarked vault to seriously mess things up.

Jack. Jack didn't know he was alive... Jack thought him dead; for almost 99,000 years. Seeing the sudden change in Ianto's stance the Doctor stepped forwards, shaking the man's shoulder lightly, trying to pull him out of whatever state of shock he'd entered.

"Where's Jack?" the Welshman asked eventually: a thousand scenarios invading his already crowded and fragile mind; what if Jack didn't remember him? What if he didn't want him anymore? That would be the worst outcome: being given a second chance at life only to be rejected by the only person he wanted to spend it with. The pounding in his head, which had been receding, intensified again, his vision blurring as the blood rushing through his head drowned out everything else.

Barley reacting in time the Doctor managed to catch Ianto as he fell; he'd passed out, not surprising after everything he'd been through. At least it gave him more time to consider his answer, he had no idea where the captain was; Martha had brought him up to date with what had been happening with Torchwood- but after the incident with the Blessing (a period of human history that the Doctor couldn't have got involved with no matter how much he'd wanted too) Jack had left earth again, and unlike the first time he'd gone further than a cruiser on the edge of the galaxy. Setting Ianto back down in the seats he decided it was time to pay a visit to one of Jacks old friends.

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I hope the format of this is a little better, I think I'm getting the hang of this now XD


	4. Unwilling Accomplice

Sorry about the delay, I had lots of tests and some new DVDs... Well mostly DVDs really XD Hope this is okay, as always all feedback is welcomed!

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Life for 'Captain John Hart' was an endless loop of drinking and despair, though if anyone had asked he'd claim he was living the dream: running a popular extraterrestrial bar in New York where all manner of aliens and space travellers would stop: he was rich, he was popular; what more could he want?

Of course there was a lot more he wanted, adventure, power, sex, even love. But there was only one person who he wanted it from and Jack had, in no uncertain terms, told him to get lost after their last meeting.

He blamed the cute kid: Ianto Jones, he'd got in the way, if it wasn't for him Jack would have taken him up on his offer the first time and none of the rest of it would have happened.

Since the rejection his life had seemed meaningless, even murder had lost its bright allure, he cared for nothing anymore, the heaps of money he owned were but an empty reminder of what he'd once loved.

The day- or rather months-no one died had passed him by, barley raising acknowledgement, since life meant so little to him now, having more than his fair share of it was a mere inconvenience.

To be honest he wasn't even sure what held him on this dreary planet, it certainly wasn't for the sights. Maybe it was out of some hopeless dream that Jack might change his mind, but he knew that would never happen: not with Welsh eye-candy on his arm.

All this heartbroken moping about wasn't going to do him any good, he needed to leave this planet and all its memories behind. Perhaps tomorrow, he thought, staring into the bottom of his glass, yes, tomorrow he'd hand over the keys to this place to one of the bar tenders and get on the first space cruiser to pass; that was much easier than choosing a destination, choice was always clouded by sentiment.

He glanced up at the clock- half two in the morning- the bar was near enough empty: Monday's were always slow nights. With a final sigh he pulled himself up, shrugging on his now somewhat faded red military jacket and he headed out into the bitter New York morning.

As he turned down an alley, headed for his pitiful apartment, he heard footsteps behind him, his fingers brushed briefly across the gun at his waist: ready to draw it if he should they attack. What he wasn't expecting was for them to stop and call out his name.

Turning quickly he found himself faced with a tall man stood a few meters away, dressed in a long coat, even in the shadows of the alley way he could tell he didn't recognize this man, which begged the question of how he knew his name.

"Who are you?" he demanded, hand now firmly around his gun, but still concealed under his jacket.

"A friend of a friend" the man gave a small smile.

"Yeah, that doesn't answer the question mate" John really didn't have the patience to deal with cryptic strangers today.

"I believe you have something I need, just to borrow- mind- to trace one of its brothers" the man gestured to where John's vortex manipulator was just visible on his wrist past his sleeve.

"And why should I let you?" he was already tiring of this: surely if this man could track him down he could do the same with the other time agent he was looking for.

"Because I have a gun" a third voice from behind him made both men jump a little, neither had noticed as Ianto had crept up on John and now had a gun to the back of his head.

"Ianto! The other man cried, sounding suddenly very worried "I told you not to leave the TARDIS! You're not allowed to be in this time!"

"I've never been to New York" he replied, face set with grim determination, he'd been waiting far too long to have one up on 'Captain John Hart', the man who had been responsible for Tosh and Owens death, the man who had treated their lives like a game, and who had buried Jack under Cardiff. "Besides, he was never going to help us without incentive"

"I'm offended" John turned slowly to face the man, gun now inches from his nose "For all you know I might spend all my spare time helping random weirdoes in alleyways" Behind his jokey response John was less than comfortable with this turn of events, he had to admit that Ianto had more reason than most to dislike him and something about him seemed different; his brows seemed permanently furrowed, like he was in pain.

So he put up his hands in mock surrender and announced- in the cheekiest tone he could manage "Take me to your leader"

"Why him" Ianto asked the Doctor as they reached the TARDIS, John going ahead of them.

"His wrist strap is the closest to Jacks, they were built from the same components, they spent a lot of time together... He's our best chance of tracing the signal Jack's is emitting." the Doctor replied, rather grimly: he wasn't too happy about having the false Captain around either.

Because Jack's vortex manipulator was deactivated it didn't give off the same traces John's did, and the TARDIS and the Doctor weren't familiar enough with the workings of the contraptions to trace it on its own: but the hope was John's device would lead them straight to Jack.

But even with the signal boost getting finding Jack would be difficult, and there would be no way of knowing how far along his timeline it would take them: it could be a few years down the line, or millions. And if it was the later what if Jack was no longer human, it was clear the Face of Boe had never wanted the Doctor to know his true identity, but would that have changed now? And even if he was human and despite his promise not to forget Ianto all memories faded and the ex-time agent had more time than most to forget things.

The Doctor wasn't sure which would be worst: for Ianto to see what he'd become, what he would also become, or to have been forgotten and have to live an eternal life thinking he'd been a passing phase.

Jack had never spoken of Ianto, but the Welshman had explained their relationship as best he could and the Doctor didn't doubt that Jack had loved him -that much was clear- although the boy couldn't see it.

As for Ianto himself, he'd barely given any thought to where and when they'd find Jack: he'd had a near constant headache since he'd been on the TARDIS, the Doctor had given him a bedroom, which oddly resembled a cheap hotel room, complete with a generic patterned carpet and minimalistic paintings. He was glad for it, it wasn't home but then he supposed nothing was anymore. It had taken them a few days to find John- or at least Ianto guessed it was days: keeping track of time was far too difficult here. Especially since he hadn't been allowed to leave the TARDIS, the search had brought them far too close to Ianto's past, leaving him pretty much a prisoner again.

The Doctor had led him to the wardrobe the moment he was stable enough to walk, after waking up the second time, it was a cavernous corridor: quite possibly going on forever, yet he'd found everything he was looking for, in exactly the right size, within a stone's throw of the door. He felt much more like himself, back in a suit, but his headache was still pestering him: it was like a huge pressure in his head, building every moment, a loud screeching sound ringing in his ears.

But he pushed it to the back of his mind and tried to focus; trying to find that missing memory. He'd always been so good at remembering things, almost never forgetting anything, and that was still true, he could remember every day since he'd joined Torchwood 3 and before that Torchwood 1, even his childhood was clear, but what had happened between the 456 invasion and the Doctors rescue was an absolute blank, as if nothing had happened.

Just thinking about it now made the constant pounding in the back of his head crescendo and he had to hold himself up on the nearby central console, John caught this, reiterating his earlier observation: there was defiantly something wrong with Ianto.

"Wrist strap please" the Doctor held out his hand for the device which John handed over rather begrudgingly, he was all too aware of the gun still in Ianto's hand.

The Doctor proceeded to dance around the console, various adjustments needed to be made; flight stabilizers disengaged, a quick landing calibration and with any luck this would work. Actually connecting the Vortex Manipulator to the console was the hard part, John made an exclamation of anger as the Doctor used the sonic screwdriver to open the usually indestructible casing: exposing the complicated circuits. He didn't move to rescue his device, however, even though Ianto seemed distracted he wasn't willing to risk getting shot today.

The moment the vortex manipulator was connected to the TARDIS via a wire the Doctor had seemingly pulled from under the central column the entire room shook, the gentle pulsing lights on the console going wild, as the TARDIS fought against the new intruder. With the flick of a few buttons the column began to move up and down: signalling de-materialization, still lurching violently as the comparably primitive device dragged them through space and time.

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So I was thinking of uploading my Avengers fanfic as well, and maybe my Walking Dead one if it goes well... So yeah, look out for those, and the next chapter of this should be up on time next week XD *fingers crossed*


	5. Disbelief

Trying not to steal too many plot points from 'The Immortal Janto Series', but all my ideas pale in comparison XD I'll try my best though

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"I guess that means its worked" John groaned as he picked himself up off the floor; only the Doctor had been prepared for the sudden movement and the other two men had ended up piled rather unceremoniously on the grated floor of the time machine. They'd barely managed to righten themselves when a second bout of turbulence had them flailing for the nearest purchase.  
Ianto's gun had fallen from his hand, abandoned in favour of the railing which he was now gripping onto for dear life. The Doctor picked it up, holding it away from him like it was some deadly animal which might attack him if it got too close.  
"Where did you get this?" he asked the Welshman, placing the offending item rather gingerly into his pocket.  
"There's a lot of rooms in here..." Ianto shrugged, looking a little guilty: he knew how much the Time Lord hated firearms.  
"Yeah nice ship you've got, handlings a little wobbly and the interior decorating would drive anyone with OCD mad: but anything's an improvement on the sewer chic" John was slowly regaining his confidence back- especially now Ianto was unarmed. He grinned a little when he caught the younger man's eye roll, whatever had changed about the Torchwood employee it hadn't effected the best of his idiosyncrasies.  
The fake Captain was a little nervous about seeing Jack, and a little angry that after all the speal the immortal had given him about how beautiful and awe-inspiring the Earth was he'd left himself only a year or so later.  
It seemed all three men had a lot they wanted to talk to Jack about, some subjects less friendly than others.  
With a final echoing roar the TARDIS engines settled and the occupants were able to release their hold on the railings, no one was particularly eager to step out first: not knowing what would greet them, but they could establish that Jack could be nowhere near by, as he'd have come running at the rather unmistakable sound of the TARDIS materialising.  
The Doctor- more accustomed than the others than stepping into the unknown- went first, closely followed by Ianto and a slightly reluctant John. What greeted them was a plain of sand dunes, spotted with what could have been Marram grass, slopping down to the sea. Of to their right was a towering citadel of grey stone.  
"Looks like the poster boy came home" John observed: he'd recognise the Boeshane Peninsula anywhere; it had been infamous for most of the 51st century after the Alien attack he later learnt had torn Jack's family apart. It hadn't been the first attack on a human colony in the area, but it was by far the most brutal. It had taken centuries to reclaim the area and the population remained low for many more: no one really wanted to live on the sight of such a massacre. But the most important thing John noted about this particular city was that it was where the Time Agency later set up an outpost.  
No one spoke as they entered the city; they were well aware of the stares they were attracting: sporting such bright, diverse clothing. This place reminded Ianto of one of those recreation towns, where everyone dressed up like they were from Victorian times, but if you looked hard enough you could see people wearing modern watches, or jewellery, or perhaps a car hadn't been hidden properly.  
This place really was strange: everything- while futuristic and high tech- looked old, ancient almost; the two extremes.  
"What do you suggest we do?" Ianto asked as the reached what appeared to function as a town square. "Just wander around until we find him?"  
"With any luck he'll see us..." the Doctor hadn't given much thought to this end of their hunt: the chance of finding a signal had been so remote that even with his boundless positivity he'd half expected it to fail, and therefore hadn't planned this far ahead.  
However it seemed fate (or at least a twisted incarnation of it) was on their side and it took mere moments of aimless wandering before the Doctor caught a glimpse of strikingly familiar coat tails disappearing around a corner.  
He took off with little warning to the others, Ianto quickly caught up with him however, more than used to people who started running after things without explanation.  
They found themselves in a network alleyway, away from the crowds, they were still catching no more than glimpses of the person ahead as they rounded corners, but eventually they got close enough and the Doctor was able to call out to the person.  
They caught up as the person halted, on closer observation they could tell without their target even turning that this wasn't Jack.  
John was not prepared however for who it really was; it had been a while since he'd seen a fellow time agent other than Jack.  
"Scarlett?" he exclaimed, the person they'd been perusing was a young looking woman with long raven hair, tied up in a ponytail and tucked into the back of the long coat which Ianto was almost certainly sure was Jacks. "What are you doing here?"  
"I could ask you the same question" the woman sounded just as surprised as he was, her accent was strong, the nearest likeness Ianto could think of was south American. He also noticed the wrist-strap on her arm: similar to Jack and Johns but more streamlined.  
"We're here looking for Jack" the Doctor spoke up, he wasn't sure quite what to think of this woman yet, the other times agents he'd met had a history of being unpredictable and he wasn't going to take any chances with this one.  
"Why? What do you want from him?" she snapped, John was slightly taken aback by her sudden anger: she'd been close to Jack- they all had- but never enough to be so protective over him.  
"We're just old friends" the Doctor tried to reassure her, throwing in a smile for good measure.  
She narrowed her eyes slightly but seemed to accept their answer, gesturing for them to follow her.  
"He will not be happy if you have lied. He asked not to be disturbed" she seemed to be solely addressing John as he fell into step beside her, leaving the others to trail behind.  
"What about you? Last I heard you were on the other side of the universe, new frontier and all that"  
"The time agency wasn't the only thing that fell" it was the only answer she gave, and John knew better than to push her: like Jack and himself all Time Agents had their own very diverse set of skills and, more often than not, a matching set of psychological problems.  
After winding through the maze of alleys for a bit longer- Ianto and the Doctor growing increasingly more anxious: they didn't know this woman but their experience with ex-time agents wasn't exactly comforting- they reached a rather imposing looking door, solid iron tinged with rust and locked with a huge bolt which slid back when Scarlett held her wrist-strap up to it and tapped out a series of buttons.  
The inside of the building was very scarcely furnished; just a few chairs and a table covered in an array of futuristic technology- only some of it resembling the retro style of this planet, the rest probably came from elsewhere (both time and place) and the Doctor couldn't help feeling uneasy about its presence here.  
There was only one door leading off the room and no windows, just a single bare bulb dangling from the cracked ceiling.  
"Why are you here?" John asked again, picking up one of the devices on the table and examining it.  
"The Time Agency took something from both of us. I for one would like it back"  
"Your thing is easy enough: its tangible, but his memory?" John scoffed, setting the item down "Is he still deluded enough to think that's possible?"  
"But it is." Scarlett insisted,  
any further discussion was cut off by the door across the room opening and none other than Jack Harkness entered the room.  
He froze as he saw Ianto, face twisting in a flood of emotions then quickly going blank; he took a few steps forward, eyes flicking from Ianto to the Doctor.  
"It's really him Jack." the Doctor insisted, aware of what was probably going through the man's mind.  
There was a moments silence as everyone waited for Jacks reaction.  
"No."  
No one was more surprised by this than Ianto; he stepped closer, hoping to comfort the immortal. "Jack..."  
Before anyone could react Jack had drawn a gun, the Webbly revolver that Ianto had seen him use to take down so many threats in the past, and pointed it straight at Ianto's head.  
"It's not you. It can't be" he said through gritted teeth, hand shaking a little.  
"Jack, it is me. I promise." Ianto took another step forward, tears starting to well up behind his eyes.  
Nobody was prepared for what happened next: Jack pulled the trigger and Ianto's lifeless body fell to the floor.

* * *

I feel so evil... Late update and clffhanger XD Though I can't take all the credit: thanks to 21stCenturyGirl for the idea! This time it was Tony to the rescue XD


End file.
